The Truth About Quidditch
by Sassy SOBettes
Summary: Cassius Warrington, family man: Kind of. In which he comes home late and discovers NEW things about "Quidditch". SOB one-shot of *shock* waffyness.


A _fluffy_ SOB one-shot from me! Are you surprised? You _should_ be. Really.

Disclaimer: No one cares. No one _fucking_ cares.

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            "Bloody miserable transport office... bloody defective port-key... bloody long conferences..." the dark-haired man muttered to himself as he stepped out of the Port-key office in London. Cassius Warrington, former Slytherin Quidditch Player, grinned apologetically at the small, dark-haired woman who stepped daintily out of the Port-key office after him, yawning slightly.

            "Wood's probably having kittens worrying now, hmm, Persephone?"

            The woman, Persephone, gave Warrington a wry grin, "He probably would be if he were not engrossed in some obscure Quidditch volume or another. Fallon, on the other hand... _YOU_ should be getting home, hmm?"

            "Indeed." Warrington answered, then grimaced, "I was supposed to be home by dinnertime tonight... bloody German Ministry..."

            "Oh, stop your whining and pouting and save it for Fallon to see, I'm off... come to think of it, Oliver really might be worried... Good night, Cassius."

            "Good night, Persephone."

            Persephone Vafer-Wood Disapparated away, off to return to her home and family, and Warrington Disapparated home as well a moment later.

            Cassius Warrington was twenty-seven years of age, wealthy, generally respected, working at the Department of Experimental Charms for the British Ministry of Magic, and happily married to a beautiful, lovingly shrewish wife. Said wife, 'Fallon' to her friends and loved ones and 'Ms. Anderson' to everyone else (for such a one as she would _never_ dream of relinquishing her maiden name, connubial bliss or no), was formerly a Healer during the war, but after that was over, spent her days doing Potions research. Eloquent, sharp wit aside, Fallon was every inch a scientific person. With a scientist's eye for detail, cool efficiency, and penchant for precision. Meaning... punctuality, among other things.

            Oh, well. Perhaps if he were _really_ lucky, she might have forgotten when exactly he was due back. And besides, the conference of the English and German Departments of Experimental Charms... dragging... it wasn't his _fault_. With these cheerful thoughts in mind, he whispered the charm to open the door to his flat, and walked inside.

            It was quiet.

            That meant that Lila, at least, was in bed asleep. His little daughter was four years old, with her mother's thick, satiny dark hair, as well as her mother's fiery spirit and imperiousness. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Fallon was teaching Lila certain... skills... as well.

            Speaking of Fallon...

            Oh. Bloody Hell.

            There was a fire in the fireplace, dying down, and a single candle on the coffee table, long since burnt out. And there, reclining gracefully on the sofa, her dark hair a stark contrast to the white plush, was his wife. Asleep. And wearing none other than his old Quidditch robes, from his... their schooldays.

            Needless to say, the robes were old and worn, the green and silver fabric somewhat faded. They were also far too large for her. Her hands were practically invisible in the too-long sleeves, and the neckline was too big; the material was sliding off one shoulder. Certainly, this was not something that she would ever wear in public. Or even in private, most of the time.

            He'd never seen her look so... _fetching_.

            Hell, probably he had... but this was...

            Perhaps there is some extra consciousness between ardent lovers, or perhaps it was just Fallon, but she seemed to sense him watching her. Her eyes snapped open, and she took a moment to stretch (the robe sliding even further down her shoulder) before blinking and fixing her eyes upon her husband.

            She scowled, "You are four hours, twenty-three minutes and seventeen seconds late."

            "Bloody..."

            "... Conferences, Port-key offices, blah, blah, blah..." she interjected, crossing her arms over her chest and causing the green and silver fabric to bunch over her breasts. He stared, and she raised an eyebrow in amusement.

            "Well, don't you have anything to say? Or are you just going to stand there and gawp like some petrified pillock?"

            _I missed you. I love you. I'm so glad that I'm home now, and I can see you again_. All of these were, of course, viable options in the 'things to say' category. Well, granted, they were almost unbearably sappy and therefore must be used in extreme caution. But Cassius Warrington, the blunt, forthright (when he was not trying to manipulate someone gullible, anyway) man that he was, simply blurted out the first and foremost thought in his head.

            "You're wearing my Quidditch robes."

            Fallon smirked, and stood up, daintily lifting the bottom part of the robes like a skirt, holding it out so she would not trip over the too-long bottom hem. Slowly, she walked over towards him, stopping about half a foot away.

            "Not for long I won't, unless I'm vastly mistaken," she purred. He grinned widely at her before pulling her into his arms.

            "You know me too well," he chuckled, giving her an appreciative look and sliding one hand up her back to her shoulder, fingertips stroking the bared, smooth skin. 

            She let him hold her for a second, but just as he was about to dip his hand under the collar of the oversized robes, she slapped his hand away and glowered once more.

            "Bloody git... I should make you sleep on the couch for being so late."

            He stared, then put on a long, repentant face, hands resting on her slender hips, "Well, it wasn't exactly my _fault_ that the conference took so bloody long... even ask Persephone... she would tell you..."

            Fallon gave him a wry smile, quirking one eyebrow, "I... don't think that I shall...::ahem:: bother her right now. She just returned home, I'm sure that Wood missed her _very_ much..." She trailed off for a moment, and then, the stern expression was once again in place on her lovely face, "But no matter what the reason, you were _late_." She scowled up at him, her eyes narrowed.

            "Damn it, Fallon..."

            She glared at him for a moment longer, before the angry expression was replaced by an almost girlish, unhappy pout. "Do you realize how bloody _lonely_ it got, waiting for you? No sign of anyone for hours? I put Lila to bed, and waited... and you didn't come home! That's why I stole your robes... they were the first ones of yours I could find. And you weren't here and you'd been gone for a whole bloody _week_ and this is the fourth bloody conference this year... You're a horrible git, you know? For forcing me to do something so disturbingly atypical and un-bitchy as to _miss_ you so much..."

            And he pulled her back into his arms, burying his face into her soft, lovely hair. It was rare for Fallon to admit to something like this... extremely rare indeed, even to him. And there she was, wearing his _Quidditch robes_ of all things, and actually saying that she missed him... and he had not held her for a week, just as she'd said, and it took all his willpower to not rip the robes off her (he _was_ rather fond of them, after all, and moreover, she really should wear them more often) and ravish her right there on the couch.

            She let out an uncharacteristic giggle against his lips as his arms crushed her against his chest, and as her hands twined in his hair, he growled low in his throat and picked her up, the robes now dangling precariously and baring both shoulders (somehow they'd gotten loosened), and carried her to the bedroom without breaking the kiss. 

            Much, much later, Fallon sat up on the bed and surveyed the robes on the floor ruefully, completely rumpled.

            "Oh dear... I think that those will need quite a few ironing and neatening charms to get them back in their original state..." And then, she gave a soft shriek as her husband wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck.

            "I think I finally understand something," he remarked casually. 

            "Hmm?" she cocked her head to the side and looked at him thoughtfully, "What universal truth of the world do you 'finally understand'?"

            He grinned lasciviously at her, "Those fascinating conversations about 'QUIDDITCH' that you and the other girls used to have all the time... 'riding a broomstick' and such..."

            She laughed slightly and smacked him on the shoulder. "It took you _this_ long to figure that out? I'm quite disappointed in you. Really... for a lecherous sod such as yourself..."

            He laughed, "All right... so it took me some time to grasp the concept. But now that I _do_ understand... up for another game?"

            "Prepare to lose, you git."

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::Evil laugh:: See, even _I_ can write fluff once in a while. This was fun. Much more fun than paying attention to the stupid organic chemistry TA. ~.^


End file.
